


In The Company of Wolves

by Gairid



Series: Odyssey [6]
Category: Vampire Chronicles - All Media Types, Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-03-08 23:34:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3227696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gairid/pseuds/Gairid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'm afraid I have posted some of the Odyssey series out of order ...  this tale was written before  <i>À Travers le Passé, Obscurément</i>, so I beg pardon for  my inattention. It doesn't really interrupt too much since it can stand on it's own.  This tale is also  pretty old, but as I mentioned, I am trying to get all of my work  posted in one place.</p><p><b>Disclaimer:</b> Lestat de Lioncourt and Louis de Pointe du Lac and the title The Vampire Chronicles are the sole creation and property of Anne Rice and her publishers; no profit has been made from this writing. As always, written for love, not money.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Down Time

**Author's Note:**

> I'm afraid I have posted some of the Odyssey series out of order ... this tale was written before _À Travers le Passé, Obscurément_ , so I beg pardon for my inattention. It doesn't really interrupt too much since it can stand on it's own. This tale is also pretty old, but as I mentioned, I am trying to get all of my work posted in one place.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** Lestat de Lioncourt and Louis de Pointe du Lac and the title The Vampire Chronicles are the sole creation and property of Anne Rice and her publishers; no profit has been made from this writing. As always, written for love, not money.

**~Chapter One~**

**Narrative**

Brian moved through the snowy stillness, his warm breath pluming in the still air. The sun was a monstrous orange ball painting the sky just over the brow of the hill he was climbing. He moved easily and well, for there was a good crust on the deep blanket of snow and when he reached the top of the incline, he stopped, leaning against a boulder. He looked down at the shallow bowl of a valley, at the conifers frosted with their burdens of thick snow. This was a familiar place to him; he had been coming to this spot each morning to watch the sun come up. On this particular morning, it colored the keels of the lowering clouds with splashes of red and pink and orange. Within an hour it would be hidden; he smelled snow in the air.

Brian could have gone anywhere--a warmer place populated with beautiful young men such as he was. He wanted solitude, though and so found his way to this place deep in the forested Berkshire Mountains. He was in his home state, but this place was as far away from his childhood as his New Orleans home was. He had come for a break, some time to think. He did this from time to time, realizing that the intensity of living hard by immortals dictated some decompression every now and then; time away from then. Away from Lestat. His first day there had been filled with activity, unloading food and putting it away, familiarizing himself with the place, and with the surrounding area. Settling in.

He leaned against the rock for several minutes more, watching until the sun threatened to blind him before turning back and retracing his tracks in the snow. The air was very cold, but he removed his fleece hat, having built up a layer of sweat with his brisk pace. Several hours later he was sitting on the porch, watching the snowfall and marveling at the silence, unbroken even by the raucous gang of crows that usually arrived in the early afternoon to scold him until he brought out scraps for them to eat. 

He had several cords of wood laid by and when he had returned earlier he had split more than enough wood to get him through the night and the next day. The inside of the cabin was snug and warm, bathed with the heat of the vintage Pearl Kineo wood stove. He would build a fire in the hearth when night came on but for now it was good to sit swathed in warm clothes watching the whiteness descend.

Brian had deliberately kept himself from too much interior reflection but now, wrapped in the frigid white silence, his mind was awake. He thought about the strange time he’d spent with Louis when Lestat had gone away to Paris for a few days. Intense--it had been intense and intimate. For as long as he had known Louis he’d never connected with him very well. This time, though it had been different. 

His wrist still was still smudged with bruises.

Upon Lestat’s return he’d been left to himself for a while and the resulting depression and insomnia had prompted him to make arrangements for some down time. Brian never fooled himself into thinking he had either the inclination or the courage to leave his life with them, whatever it was, but he had easily recognized that he’d needed to step back and refocus.

He missed them now, Lestat and Louis, missed the dark, exotic excitement of spending time with them. And, of course, there was the Blood. He was no stranger to addictions, after all. He’d a fondness for the drink until he’d tasted Lestat’s fiery elixir. And hadn't he seen his brother laid out in an early coffin, dead from his associations and his own addictions? Seen his family crumble from within from it? He had. So, yeah, he recognized obsession for what it was. This particular one had been in place well before Lestat had begun the practice of giving him the tiny sips. The Blood just sealed the obsession. 

To protect him, Lestat said and Brian half-believed that because certainly since the practice had begun he had not been ill with so much as a head cold. To mark him, too, Brian realized during that time when Armand had come to New Orleans. And that…the marking…what did he think of that? He didn’t mind it, truth be told. After all, what was he really, anymore but Lestat’s creature?

_‘…He comes to MY city and threatens MY mortal…’_

Brian had overheard Lestat speak those words and he thought that such an idea should make him balk or cringe. It didn’t. He was theirs. No sense in denying that, either. He’d kept himself sane by not denying things he knew to be the truth. He laughed out loud, and the sound of it was small indeed in the frozen cathedral silence of the forest. Sane. Well, that might be debatable. Maybe functional was more the word. He shivered. The light was diminishing and his surroundings had taken on that beautiful blue look that happened at twilight, even in the midst of a snowfall such as this.

As it grew darker the wind began to pick up and he went inside. He removed his outer clothes and knelt in front of the stone hearth to kindle the fire. When he had it going to his satisfaction he pulled the overstuffed armchair close by and settled back into it to watch the flames. After a little time had passed he put his hand into his pocket and withdrew the vial. An antique thing, he had learned. Louis had found it in one of the antique shops on Royal Street and he deemed it a fitting interim vessel for Lestat’s blood. It was a flat glass disk, a tiny decanter with a scrolled silver jacket and stopper. He held it up to admire the ruby glow shining through the spaces in the silver.

Lestat had given it to him upon his departure along with a warm and dizzying kiss. Louis had watched and his green eyes seemed sympathetic. He took the vial out each evening and gazed at it. Opened it and breathed in the scent. It was faint, for he was, of course, Only Human.

And what was this doing to him, the sips? Binding him more tightly to his obsession, yes, that was perfectly obvious. Heightening his senses, especially in the hours immediately following a taste, also obvious. The enhancements lingered a little longer each time. A build-up of the demon? He didn’t know. He didn’t care, either, but he wondered idly about it all the same, for it was in his nature to be curious.

He had asked Lestat about that, the demon. Amel, or whatever its name was supposed to be. Lestat said it was as good an explanation as any, but that it didn’t matter one way or the other anymore.

He threaded the little cap back on to the vial once more held it to the firelight, shivering. He had noticed that he had little appetite afterward, but always that raging thirst. Not for blood (unless it be more of Lestat’s blood) no, but a fierce thirst all the same, as though he would never be quenched.

The wind had picked up considerably since he had come inside, and glancing at his watch he was startled to see that nearly an hour had passed as he had gazed, lost, at the gleaming jewel of a bottle. A strong gust battered at the little cabin, and the wind set up a low shrieking under the eaves. He opened the bottle and poured the essence onto his tongue.

 

NEXT - Chapter Two


	2. Invitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This tale is part of the Odyssey series, though posted lightly out of order. apologies for that.
> 
> Disclaimer: Lestat de Lioncourt and Louis de Pointe du Lac and the title The Vampire Chronicles are the sole creation and property of Anne Rice and her publishers; no profit has been made from this writing. As always, written for love, not money.

  
**~Chapter Two~**

**(Brian)**

About a month after Lestat’s trip to Paris and my ensuing adventures in the North Woods, Lestat again brought up his idea that they take me along on a trip with them. 

He picks his moments, Lestat. 

I had spent a good part of the afternoon with a machete and a mattock taking down a few banana trees that had gotten entirely too big for the space they occupied in the far courtyard. It was hot, sweaty work, but I felt good when I’d finished, my muscles stretched and loose, and I finished up when blue twilight had begun creeping into the courtyard. I felt a pleasant exhaustion that I planned to indulge with a shower and a couple of beers afterward.

I was covered with soil and sap and soaked with sweat so I took my work boots off and peeled out of my jeans on the porch, leaving them in a heap near the door. I’d left the AC cranked before I went outside and I breathed a sigh of relief as I stepped in. A small change of plans was in order; I went to the kitchen and cracked a Carlsberg, sucking it down in three large gulps. Better.

I was in the shower a few minutes later letting the water sluice the grime from my chest and back and idly lathering my genitals with this funky, thick, slippery gel I’d bought. It smelled like lemons and it was fun to play with. Of course, this was the moment that Lestat chose to come into the bathroom after an extremely cursory knock. 

“I wondered why you weren’t answering your phone,” he said. He grinned at me through the clear shower door. “Enjoying yourself??” 

I grinned back at him, only slightly discomfited. I turned a little bit.

“Just cleaning up. What can I do for you?”

I scooped out more of the gel and began lathering my hair, looking back at him over my shoulder.

“We want to talk to you.” He said, scenting the air. “We’ll wait on the porch.”

“You can wait in the living room if you want.” I said. The semi-arousal that had occurred as I had idly soaped myself had turned into a raging hard on. He always looks so damn good.

“Too damn cold downstairs, Brian.” 

“Right.” I said. 

Lestat picked up the can of shaving gel from the sink and as I watched he squirted a quantity of it into his hand. 

“You shave with this, do you?” he asked, sniffing at it and moving his head back a bit hastily. 

“Yeah. Rub it between your hands. It turns into foam.” I said. Lestat is a tactile creature; I knew he’d enjoy it. 

He did so, smiling at the sensation. He turned on the water and rinsed it from his hands. It was strange to see him standing there doing such a mundane thing. 

“Take your time Brian…do what needs to be done. We’ll be outside.” He gave me knowing grin and left to join Louis. When the door closed behind him, I sagged against the wall. I looked down at myself, still stiff and shook my head, laughing a little.

**(Lestat)**

~

I joined Louis on Brian’s porch, feeling the warmth slip around me like a blanket. It was humid, with a taste of rain in the air, somewhere north. Louis was seated on the wicker couch that Brian had on his porch, and he reached his hand to me.

“Where is he?” Louis breathed into my ear. 

“Showering.” I looked at the muddy jeans on the other side of the door. 

“Surprised him up there, did you?” He nipped hard at my earlobe. I nodded.

“We need to get some of that shaving gel, Louis,” I said, slipping my arm around his shoulders. I think it would be fun to fill the tub with it and slide around. Have you seen that stuff?”

Louis smiled indulgently at me. “I have not,” he stated. “You are set on Miami, then?” he asked, smoothly changing the subject.

“ I think Brian will like it there.”

“As if that’s your only reason. “

“Well, Louis, you said yourself you could go another hundred years without another Mardi Gras in the Quarter, and we did tell Brian we’d all go somewhere. I just want to see if Night Island is the same. If it is, Brian’ll love it.” I said affecting an innocent tone. He wasn’t buying it.

“All the places in the world and you want to go to Night Island.” 

“You liked it there yourself, if I remember right.” I murmured, nosing beneath his hair.

“Lestat, I barely remember the place. All I saw was you.” I felt his body shift as he raised his hand to stroke my hair. My heart squeezed at his words, and I licked behind his ear contentedly. From within the house we heard Brian’s rapid descent down the stairs.

“Ever watch him on the steps? It’s like he can’t wait to get off them.” I said. It was true. Brian moves down steps with a quick, light rhythm to his feet. I suppose other humans do it too, but I enjoyed the staccato rhythm of his feet, a small dance down the steps. . Even going up the stairs, he moved fast, often taking them two at a time.

“Perhaps it’s because he knows you are out here waiting for him, my love?”

I raised my head and regarded him. “Perhaps.” I allowed. “However, he slept with you.” 

Louis sighed dramatically; we'd been over this territory a time or two before but I loved to teasing him about it too much to let it go too easily. "We shared the bed, 'Stat—a little aid and comfort from where it was offered."

"As you say." I kissed his nose as the door opened behind me. “There you are, _cher_ , nice and clean. Everything all squared away?”

Brian wore a pair of loose cotton shorts and a Boston Red Sox t-shirt, damp at the collar where his wet hair touched it. He crossed in front of us and pulled a chair closer to where we sat. He sat down, one bare foot tucked under his thigh.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. A little cold water does the trick, you know?” he said comfortably.  
“So what’s going on?”

“We’re going to Miami.” I announced.

“Okay. When?” he asked.

“Tonight, of course.”

“Tonight? Fuck’s sake! I better get on the phone. Friday’s heavy traffic at the airport…” He rose to go get his cell phone, muttering to himself. I looked at Louis and smiled. Brian can take it on the chin, you have to say that for him. Nothing seems to rattle him much and he rarely made excuses. He just tried to do what he had to in order to make something happen. I grabbed his arm before he could get past me and pulled him down next to me.

“Relax. We’re driving. It’ll be fun. The open road and all that.”

He regarded me warily. “Have you been reading Hunter S. Thompson?”

“No. What are you talking about? We told you we’d take a trip, so now we’re doing it.”

“Have you other plans, Brian? Or appointments?” Louis asked him. “God knows how long we’ll be gone.”

“No, nothing pressing. What car are we taking? And I’m guessing you haven’t packed anything.” He got up again, galvanized with purpose. “I’ll throw a few things together and then I’ll be over to help you pack, yeah?” He disappeared into his house.

I turned to look at Louis, with a grin. “I don’t think he realizes that we’re trying to show him a good time here. He’s working”

“No, he’s anticipating, my love. I have come to find that he’s good at that.” Louis pulled at me and I twisted around so that he could kiss me more easily. Thoughts of cars and packing immediately fled as I explored his sweet mouth with my tongue. It has been said of me that I have a rather short span of attention. It’s all relative, for can I be expected to focus on anything but Louis when he is languidly kissing me? And why would I want to? We had far too many years apart from one another and if each small touch, every blissful kiss serves to drive my attention from anything but Louis, that is as it should always have been.

From his throat came a soft sound, warm and content, but with the hint of longing that stirs me so. That he can love me the way that he does makes me strong in a way that has nothing to do with the creature that I am. He released my mouth and cupped my cheek in his white hand. I gazed into the green gleam of his eyes, captured by the dappled shadows on his face, etched there by the lights in the courtyard and the fitful moonlight. A ragged scud of cloud changed the play of light on him. We remained motionless this way until the door banged open behind me. Brian said something, but stopped in mid-sentence with a soft gasp. Louis smiled into my eyes and nudged me

“Why don’t I just go on over and get some things together for you…” Brian said softly. I couldn’t see him, but I was aware he was forcing himself down the steps.

“We’ll come with you.” Louis said. He pressed a kiss beneath my eye. I rose, hearing the creak of wicker as I did. I couldn’t take my eyes from his…wickedly green. “We’ll *help*.”

**(Brian)**

I’d gone up to my bedroom and pulled out a bag, methodically putting in a few changes of clothes. I was used to doing things on the fly and so I was prepared. They were not, though in each of the cars was stowed a bag with a change of clothing for each of them. I wanted to put together a bag for them that was a little more complete, in case they should want to do anything that included mingling with mortals.

I had that light feeling of anticipation and excitement in my belly. I loved to take them places, loved being near them and watching them among mortals. Before I went back downstairs I changed out of the shorts into my favorite soft jeans. Done. Getting their things together would likely take a bit longer unless they left me alone to do it. 

When I stepped onto the porch, I locked the door behind me and turned to speak to them. My mouth closed with a snap, when I saw the way they were looking at one another and I was unable to stifle a soft gasp. Louis had his hand to Lestat’s face. I could only see the back of Lestat's golden head, and the set of his powerful shoulders, sheathed in a soft white cotton shirt, yearning toward Louis. The look of love that suffused Louis’ face and the luminous beauty of his eyes trained upon Lestat, struck a blow to my heart. I felt disoriented and dizzy for a moment. 

“Why don’t I just go on over and get some things together for you…” I muttered. I could barely pull myself away, backing down the steps to keep the image in sight. I turned from them at last and crossed the courtyard, leaving the bag by the gate in the wall. From behind I heard Louis speaking.

“We’ll come with you,” he said. “We’ll help.”

I had a feeling that we might not be leaving for a little while, yet. I couldn’t think of a graceful way to tell him that I’d likely get it done a lot faster if left on my own, so instead I just went with it. Besides, any number of interesting things might happen and I didn’t mind being included in that. Not at all.

“What car are we taking?” I asked Lestat as I followed them into the bedroom. I moved toward the closet to retrieve one of the bags in there. “I’ll call and have it brought over to save a little time.”

“Not to worry.” He said easily. “We’re taking the convertible.”

The convertible. Okay. A new set of problems. The limousines were blacked out in the back, perfectly safe for day sleeping. Not so that boat of a Chevy, so that meant getting them into a safe place during day. I love a challenge. Lestat watched me with an amused look on his face. 

There is a small garage at the far end of the carriageway, where Lestat usually kept the Harley and where the yard tools resided. At the moment it was the home of his ’59 Impala, his current vehicle of choice. He loved the thing—it was red over white and flamboyant as the cars of that era were. I thought it was a great looking car, but it handled like a truck and needed a good deal of special attention. It was fast, though, and the speedometer was calibrated to a cool 160, something you don’t see in cars nowadays. It was a pig for fuel, too, and that would mean several stops to fill the thirsty tank. Yeah, this was going to be an interesting trip.

**(Lestat)**

,

Louis’ teasing words to Brian did not catch him as off guard as they once might have and in fact his thoughts were geared more toward what might occur and his pleasure at being included. He’d gone off by himself for a while after I came back from Paris, to think things over, he'd said. He is an intelligent man, but one might say he is an obsessed one .It seems that this worries him. What he doesn’t seem to see is that everyone has their obsessions; if it were not us for him, it would be something else. It’s arguable whether or not his particular obsession is destructive to him, but there are many dangers in the world after all. He was gone for nearly a month but on his return he was his usual affable self and whatever decisions he had left to pursue had apparently been made. I had not yet asked him about it, though I was curious. Louis had advised me to leave it alone. ‘Brian will tell you if he’s a mind to, ‘Stat.’ He’d said. 

“I’ll be over in a few minutes,” Brian said to us. “I want to bring extra film.”He went back into his little house. Louis sat down upon the bed

“Perhaps some nice stills, Lestat? I am sure Brian would enjoy posing you.”

I stood before him and he put his arms around my waist, nuzzling against my stomach.

“Posing us,” I said. “Perhaps on the beach.” Louis liked to tease, but I know that he enjoyed Brian’s photographs as much as I did. He’d captured some rare moments and he has taken photos of Louis that are absolutely heart-stopping.

Louis pushed me back affectionately, standing and going to the closet. He rummaged around for a while until I grew impatient. “Why do we need to bring anything?” I grumbled. “We’re driving to Florida. We can buy anything we need.”

“Lestat, where is that sarong? The one you got in St. Kitt’s?” Louis said, totally ignoring me.

"It’s in the drawer, the one with the gloves in it." I said. “Why?”

He came out holding it. I could hear Brian coming up the back stairs. “As we are taking this trip to thank Brian, I think it might be nice if he saw you in it. Though it might be the straw that finally breaks that particular camel’s back.”

Brian came in as just as Louis was placing the sarong in the otherwise empty case. He grinned, shaking his head. “Lestat, do you plan on us leaving tonight?” He said, as he approached the closet.

“Yes. Why?”

“Just making sure. It might speed things up if you let me put a few things together for you both. I know what you like to wear.” He glanced at Louis.” “And I know what you like to wear for him." He cocked his thumb at me as he disappeared into the closet. Louis sat down on the bed again.

“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?” I called in to him.

He came out with loaded arms, laying the selections on the bed--shirts and trousers, and several belts.

“Don’t forget the Organizer.” Louis said, his features bland. 

“That might be a personal choice, yeah?” Brian said, thrown for the first time this evening. Trust Louis to know how to put him off balance. The organizer was at the back of the closet; it’s filled with all sorts of apparatus, sex toys all of them, though some might not be recognized as such.

“Perhaps you might have some suggestions." Louis murmured, with just the right sweep of his dark lashes. He was making good inroads into Brian’s composure. 

“Yes.” I said, seeing an opportunity that I was not about to pass up. “After all, you and Louis have become so close. Have I mentioned yet that it as most noble of you to volunteer to sleep with him when I was away in Paris?”

There was a quick catch in his breath, and he looked hard at me. He was well aware of my penchant toward possessiveness.

“Come now, Lestat," Louis chided. “Haven’t you rattled that cage enough? He was, after all, ‘watching out’ for me as you asked him to.”

Brian looked at us, one to the other, as he folded the clothes he’d selected and placed them neatly into the case. His heart pounded madly and he shifted uncomfortably. “G’wan witchyez both,” he said, exasperated and pleased at the same time. “Why don’t you go make out in the car, yeah? I’ll be down in a few minutes. At this rate you’ll be asleep before we’re ready to leave.”

Louis raised a brow.

“I believe we have been put in our place, Lestat.” 

“It sounds like a good idea to me, Louis," I murmured as he came around the bed and into my arms.

“Car’s in the carriageway, all set to go.” Brian said, with that dazed look in his eyes. He watched Louis slide his hands beneath the waistband of my jeans. I have to say that Brian’s voyeurism adds a certain piquancy to things.

Less than twenty minutes later Brian had packed the trunk, secured the property and we were ready to go.I took the wheel and Louis was seated beside me, thigh to thigh. After Brian loaded the trunk, he made a move to throw himself in the back seat, flushed and excited, but Louis stopped him.

“Not at all," he said. “You’ll miss all the fun back there. You aren’t working now, Brian.”

Brian smiled.

“I’m game,” he said as he squeezed in next to Louis. We were on our way.

Next: Chapter Three


	3. David and Marius --  Persephone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is in this chapter that anyone who has read this series may notice some changes in the direction of the story where Armand is concerned. This was written a long time ago and having rethought some of the events, I thought I might stimulate further writing with some obvious changes in what I'd precipitously done with the story arc back then.
> 
> Also amusing is the 2002 referencing of Yahoo Groups as a social juggernaut at the time. Enjoy!

**Chapter Three**

**(Narrative)**

David had not been surprised when Marius had come to him at last; what had surprised him was how long at it taken. He had felt the tremor at Armand's alleged destruction, heard the agonized cry. He had not been able to interpret it, though he had bent his thought upon the source, trying vainly to feel anything beyond a vague sense of sorrow. He had not. There was no sense that Armand had either been freed or damned. Close upon the tremor he heard the consternation of the others, those that he could easily read. Foremost he heard and felt the anguish of Marius and had a fleeting sense of Louis, mostly in the form of an impression of terror from Marius’ two fledglings.

Lestat had attempted it--perhaps actually managed this destruction. David would defy anyone to say that the act had been unpredictable was not thoroughly convinced that Armand's destruction was complete. Armand was a powerful creature of unfathomable cunning. He was easily capable of engineering a plan that included goading Lestat into attempting to destroy him as well as allowing the others to believe it had been accomplished. To what end? 

David did not know. What he did know was that he himself had felt what he believed to be Armand's presence--far off and almost unrecognisable, well after his supposed passing. Weeks after the fact Marius arrived on the doorstep of the tidy little house he’d been occupying in northern Wales. Marius made no mention of the fledglings and if the truth were to be told, David would have been relieved if Marius had cut them loose. A dreadful mistake, he believed. David knew a great deal about such things. David kept his suppositions with regard to Armand to himself: it would keep and, after all, he had no proof. David was unwilling to cause hope to bloom in Marius' heart should he be entirely wrong about all of it.

Marius’ grief did not pour from him as David expected, but was pulled from him raggedly, sharp chunks of bitterness and sorrow. He’d done what he could to be of comfort and within him was planted another seed of resentment that sprouted beside the twisted bramble that had been growing in his heart since Lestat had forced the Dark Blood upon him. Mistakes in judgment; errors in reasoning--a vampire now himself, he saw all too clearly how he had been seduced by something he had only thought he had understood. 

He should have known not to trust Lestat, but mortal and weak, he had done just that, blinded by the sheer force of Lestat’s personality and will. He had fancied himself in love with Lestat and for a brief time he had even thought there would be some sort of place for him within the framework of Lestat’s life. Bitter to find out how much he had underestimated Louis de Pointe du Lac. The weakest one? Good Christ. It made him feel no better that others had underestimated Louis as well.

Marius had been gone when David awakened. Not far, David knew. He could feel Marius’ presence somewhere near, and one of the macs was missing from its hook on the wall beside the front door. Out for a walk, then.

David went into the small room he used as a study and sat down at the computer. He logged into an interesting place listed in Yahoo Groups with the innocuous name of ‘Sightseers’. There were several new entries, but one in particular caught his eye.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sightseers at Yahoogroups.com  
FROM:Shadowwatcher  
August 10, 2002 3:47 am

SUBJECT: Vacation?

Looks like the Shadow and the Sun are headed for a holiday down in Florida. They plan on driving there and they are taking a third party with them.  
I don’t suppose they’ll be sunbathing much, but there’s plenty going on in South Beach at night to keep them busy! 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There were a few replies to the thread, mostly teasing. No entries lately about sightings of David; since Marius had arrived he had not been in the teashop where mousy little Sylvia worked. Sylvia was DeliriumT on Sightseers, a way to use his initials that the others in the group all found amusing. He didn’t mind that but it peeved him to be referred to as CB in her text messages. CB stood for Caramel Boy; not at all dignified. 

South Beach, he thought, logging off. In Miami. Lestat’s mind-numbing audacity never ceased to amaze. What sort of fuckery was he up to now? David sighed. His curiosity had gotten him into more than he ever bargained for already. 

He heard the front door open and he went out into the little hallway. David pushed the door closed against the windswept rain as Marius hung the mac on its hook. Pulling Marius close, David kissed him, a greeting sort of kiss. He was gratified to feel it become more than that, warmer. He’d missed Marius.

“I’ve missed you too.” Marius told him. They walked together into the small study to sit by the s fire.

****

Marius smiled at me, the first smile since his arrival that touched his eyes. He’d been a stranger when he’d gotten here, a stranger with a face that I knew. It seemed that regret might eat him alive. He felt that he had failed Armand and perhaps he had, but not in the way he was thinking. I said nothing about it to him. British politeness? Not at all. There was so much that I didn’t know about Marius or Armand. About Lestat and Louis. A lifetime reading about them, reading accounts that others had made regarding them was an entirely different matter than actually knowing them. I was beginning to realize that jumping to conclusions when you are dealing with creatures that have been alive for centuries was a fool’s game.

We had spent several years together, Marius and I. After I left New Orleans behind I determined that I would not fall into the trap of letting Lestat define the life he had thrust upon me. I would wander the world, indulge myself in searching out the past in order to assuage my thirst for knowledge, my need to know. The past has always had a considerable hold on me.

I met up with Marius in Seville and we found that we got on well. Talking to Marius was like having a clear window back to events and people that would otherwise have been smudged and bleary at best and at wort, forever forgotten. He was never reticent with me, answering my endless questions with an endearing eagerness. It was not a love affair, though we sometimes shared lovers' intimacies. It turned into friendship and even after we parted we remained in close contact.

But what did I know of Marius, really? About the way his mind worked, what was important to him? On the face of it I would have said that he was wise and as benevolent as a vampire had it in him to be. He’d made mistakes though. Quite a few of them, actually. And Louis, my brother. What a dreadful joke that was. I knew little more about him now than I had as a mortal, gleaning insights from written pages and cast off letters with antique dates. 

And then of course, there is The Vampire Lestat. My maker. What did I know of him? That he had a vicious streak in him that all his pretty smiles hid quite nicely. That he did as he pleased and thought little of consequences. I was a product of his capricious nature, made on a whim, and as easily discarded. There was only one that had a hold on him, and I’d been foolish to believe otherwise. I stood up abruptly, my hands shaking as I reached for the poker. I could feel Marius’ curious gaze, and so I banked the sudden little blaze of anger that had flared up in me. When I looked back at him, he reached a hand to me and I went to him.

“You think too much, David.” He said, as he sank his fangs into my throat.

**(Narrative)**

_She watched the swirl of red dissipate to pink in the still water of her bath. Her own blood, flowing slowly from a painless wound; a small hole, really, at the base of the ring finger on her left hand. She held her hand aloft and another thick drop swelled fatly, deeply red and fascinating. It followed the red trail down her arm. It had been going on for three days now. Not a steady stream of it, no, for would she not have bled to death by this time? It happened sporadically and she had taken to holding gauze in her closed fingers to staunch it should it begin its mysterious weeping. She didn’t know why it was happening, but she was not worried or frightened by it, for she knew exactly when it had begun._

_Persephone LeCompte was a single young woman with a decent job that paid well, an absolute plus in times like these. She’d made herself invaluable in dozens of ways at the law firm she worked for, and it didn’t hurt that one of the firms’ most lucrative clients had taken somewhat of a shine to her. Not that it was ever spoken of or even acknowledged by anyone there, oh God no. She held her hand parallel to the water and watched another drop swell to a perfect, shining sphere. It made a musical sound when it dropped into the bath water. A lot of things were simply…ignored at the firm._

_Monsieur Pointe du Lac, for instance. Louis. God, that time he’d showed up to sign the stack of work that Monsieur Lioncourt had been ignoring for weeks. How funny had it been to see the look of utter surprise on Glaise Gibeault’s face when Louis took the thick sheaf of papers from her arms? _‘The beauteous Persephone,’_ Louis had said, bending at the waist in a completely unstudied manner and kissing her hand before them all. His full lips pressed to her hand, she'd felt his tongue, curiously rough, scrape over her knuckles in a way that made her want to melt right there on the carpet, yet she’d managed somehow to retain her balance long enough to exit the room with a modicum of grace. And never mind Gibeault; nothing could top the venomous look in Tracy Harvey’s deftly made-up eyes when Louis had fallen into the role of courtly gentleman. Oh, wait…that would be Ms. Harvey to the lowly Persephone Le Compte._

_Perry couldn’t see it, really, but she knew if she turned on the lights in the bathroom, the water would appear slightly pink. She preferred the light of the candles, though. It seemed somehow suitable to the ongoing phenomenon of her bleeding hand. Was this like stigmata?_

_She knew what they were. It had taken her some time to wrap her mind around it, but after awhile the facts were a little too insurmountable. By the time Gerry, her boss, had appeared after having gone missing for a week or so two Christmases back she had already formed her conclusions. He’d told her a disjointed and utterly bizarre tale of his lost weekend and the ensuing week of recovery._

_"They're not what they seem, Perry," he'd confided, eyes darting about in a furtive, nervous manner._

_She knew this. If he’d had a brain in his head, he would have seen it too. She’d been careful not to dismiss him out of hand, though, affecting surprise at his adventure. It was only a few days later that he’d gone off to Bayou Oaks for a period of recovery, and she had divided her time between the senior partners, one of whom was the glossy Ms. Harvey. In the weeks and months that followed she’d watched._

_At first she had only seen them occasionally, but the first time she had been formally introduced to them she had been struck by Louis’ white skin. That in itself had not convinced her, though--it had been his fingernails. A veteran of nail salons and all manner of manicures, wraps and such, she’d know with a weird certainty that no one had nails that looked like that, gleaming and somehow deadly. Since Gerry' return, she’d seen them more often at the office. She’d seen them outside of work as well, at some of the clubs she liked to go to._

_Perry slid beneath the water and opened her eyes. After a moment she saw another drop of blood fall. It seemed heavier somehow than the water and it held its teardrop shape for a moment before it began to dissipate. She pushed herself up again and took a breath. The bleeding had started because of the ring._

_Mr. Gibeault had asked her to stay late, for Messieurs Lioncourt and Pointe du Lac had business to attend to and the redoubtable Mrs. Hughes was out of town for the week. Perry had readily agreed and spent the late afternoon on the phone with Monsieur Lioncourt’s assistant, Brian, going over the files that would be needed upon their arrival. It had been quite a list._

__“He’ll be in a temper.” Brian told her. “He gets this way sometimes. Your boss is in for some fun.”_ _

__“Thanks for the advance notice. I’m sure Mr. Gibeault can handle it.”_ _

__“Yeah, he wishes.” Brian said wryly, startling her into laughter. “Call me if you have any questions. They should be there around eight-forty, but they tend to do things on their own schedule.”_ _

_Perry could see her hand under the water, still bleeding._

__When they had arrived, Lestat was indeed in a temper, though he greeted her cordially enough. She buzzed into Gibeault's inner sanctum and nodded as he told her to show them in._ _

__Perry rose to show them in, but Lestat raised his hand._ _

__“Not necessary, chérie. I know the way.” He nodded to Louis and swept across the room and through the door. Louis stood watching after him fondly until the door closed._ _

__“The fireworks will begin anon.” Louis said, directing his gaze to her. “How have you been, Persephone?”_ _

__“Fine, thank you,” she said automatically. For a moment she felt caught in his gaze and she shivered. Something speculative there? But no…she had to have imagined it, for he blinked and whatever she’d thought she'd seen was gone and all there was to see was a distant warmth. Such green, green eyes. Eschewing the chairs, he had parked his left hip against Mrs. Hughes’ desk, his white, beautiful hand splayed elegantly on the dark green blotter. His ring caught the soft light, gleaming._ _

__“That’s a beautiful ring,” she said, mesmerized by his mere proximity. His hand was also beautiful, so white--as white as marble; each finger was so perfect, the veins, blue and ridged on the back of his hand. Each shining, deadly nail. She was aware that he was watching her closely, lightly amused. She brushed the band on his finger. It was warm to the touch. “Platinum?” she asked._ _

__“Yes,” he said, casually. The metal it was made of, the monetary value of the ring, she instinctively understood that these things meant nothing to Louis. What was precious to him was the one who had placed it upon his finger and the meaning thus imbued. His voice had made her skin prickle. He slipped it from his finger and handed it to her._ _

_Her nipples tightened, suddenly hard and high in the pink water of her bath._

__When she held the ring in her palm it had a specific and noticeable weight, round and so slickly smooth. There was engraving on the inside, but the exquisite lettering was too minute for her to read. Perry glanced up into his face and he blinked again, very slowly. She slipped the ring on. It was too large for her smaller finger and it hung loosely. From within Mr. Gibeault’s office came the sound of raised voices, Gibeault’s urgent and Lestat’s demanding._ _

__“He can be most excitable.” Louis remarked._ _

__She had closed her fingers, looking at the ring, amused at the gap._ _

__The door of the office was flung open and she heard Glaise saying “Lestat, in all good conscience, I cannot…”_ _

__Perry opened her hand and slid the ring off. She made a deft little toss and it was just as deftly caught. Had he licked the ring? She thought he had._ _

__“Your conscience be damned, sir. You will do as I have instructed.” Lestat growled imperiously._ _

__Louis handed her his handkerchief. “You had better see to that, chérie.You will stain your dress.”_ _

__She noticed then that her hand was bleeding slowly. Thickly. She made a move to blot it with the handkerchief, but stopped, clenching her hand instead and tucking the handkerchief into her sleeve. Lestat stopped dead in his tracks when his eyes met Louis’. A sly little smile bloomed on his mouth and he strode toward the desk. Gibeault attempted to continue his argument but Lestat raised his hand peremptorily._ _

_Perry raised her hand from the water. The bleeding seemed to have stopped. For now. She closed her eyes, and the scene played out again in her mind’s eye. She felt the heavy pulse in her wrists. Between her legs._

_It was like a series of snapshots in her head, Louis, unbuttoning his jacket and sliding himself backward across the desk, his black hair cascading from his shoulders. He’d winked at her. Gibeault, still sputtering at being silenced. Lestat’s left hand, reaching with infinite slowness, tangling in the black silk of Louis’ hair. Perry had watched them, rapt. Lestat’s hand moved to cup Louis’ jaw in a loving caress. Perry had to lower her gaze when Louis leaned into that touch, dark lashes sweeping his pale cheek._

_Her breathing seemed overloud in the dim bathroom. The candles flickered with each steep exhalation._

__When Louis opened his eyes, she was drawn yet again into his gaze, somehow not discomfited by Lestat, looming behind Louis, his eyes hazy with his emotions. She tried to give Louis his handkerchief back, though thinking about it now, it seemed an absurd thing to do. “I can’t keep it. It’s too lovely.” She’d said. It was a beautiful thing, monogrammed silk._ _

__“Not at all. And it is you who are too lovely, chérie. Keep it, please.”_ _

__Lestat’s thumb, slowly caressing Louis’ cheek. Louis tilted his head back to look up at Lestat, eyes sparkling. “Bite me,” he’d murmured. She’d gone breathless at that, looking from Louis to Lestat. Lestat’s eyes had changed, deepening in color and dilating until there was only the barest rim of violet iris visible.“When you are finished with Monsieur Gibeault, of course.” Louis said with an impish grin. He sat up and got off the desk, smoothing his jacket. He caught Perry’s hand in his and looked briefly at the bright blood in the creases of her fingers and palm. He pressed a light kiss there, and his lips came away scarlet. He trailed a hand over Lestat’s chest and left the office._ _

__His reddened lips. She’d been undone by the stark sensuality of the entire scene and when Lestat recovered himself a moment after Louis left the room, she’d sunk into her chair, staring at the recently vacated desk. Lestat had picked up his disagreement with Glaise precisely at the point he’d silenced the lawyer. ____

___Her hand had stopped bleeding, she noted, and her bath water was cooling. She rose up and reached for the towels neatly folded on the edge of the sink. She wrapped the towel around her body and blotted the excess water from her hair with another, not bothering to wipe the mist from the mirror._ _ _

___Since Gerry’s return to work, he had not mentioned the weekend he’d spent with them, but she’d known that he had not forgotten it or been talked into thinking he’d imagined the more outré aspects of the experience._ _ _

___“They are not what they seem.” He’d said to her.He had described a place they’d taken him, above a bar on Toulouse. She’d gone there one afternoon, to the gloomy courtyard he had described. The windows on the upper floors were boarded up, and the teddy bears he had described sat on the ledges, eerie little guards._ _ _

___“They don’t live there.” He’d told her, as though she didn’t know perfectly well what their address was. She had listened closely to the details of the interior, though. His descriptions were not very good, but she had a general impression of lush decadence and erotic statuary. Mentions of absinthe and Louis dressed like a street hustler. She’d seen that side of Louis, seen that side of both of them, neoprene and leather, silks and satins and on one memorable occasion, Lestat wearing some sort of finely linked chain mail shirt that made him look impossibly wicked._ _ _

___Gerry didn’t like it that Louis was invariably nice to her. She got the feeling that Gerry had some proprietary feelings for them, which seemed absurd to her. It was perfectly obvious that he somehow amused them. Not that she didn’t understand his attraction; she herself would give her right arm to have Louis suck on her fingers. That time he’d licked her knuckles…_ _ _

___Perry flicked the towel off and tossed it onto the chair, on top of a small tower of clothing and slipped into her robe. She glanced at her hand. No blood. She took another of the sterile gauze pads from the blue and white box on her bureau and took it with her into her small living room._ _ _

___They were on their way to Florida by now. Louis had mentioned that they were driving to Miami just before things had gotten so interesting when Lestat had come back into the reception area. After Lestat left, Gibeault had turned to her, red-faced and flustered._ _ _

___“Not a word of this leaves this office, do you understand?”_ _ _

___She’d met his eye steadily and agreed. He stared hard at her, trying to gauge her. Certainly she had taken the unusual situation in stride, remaining calm during the entire incident. He nodded curtly at her and told her she could go home. When he’d gone back into his office she’d lifted her hand from her lap, staring at the spreading crimson stain her dress. The dress hung now in her closet, the stain dried to maroon. When Gerry found out she had been at an impromptu meeting with the illustrious clients, he had asked her any number of oblique questions as to what had taken place. She told him only that there had been nothing out of the ordinary about any of it._ _ _

___One of the main things about watching was that you kept most of what you knew to yourself._ _ _

___Next: Chapter Four_ _ _


	4. Road Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is amusement at a mall and something sinister occurs to Louis.

 

**(Brian)**

Lestat drives the way he does most things; damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead. The Chevy, old as it was, really walked and talked, the big engine rumbling with power. And the bench seats? Well, there I was next to Louis, and it was pretty cozy all right. I had my arm stretched along the back of the seat behind him. He’d tied his hair back but as usual, much of it had escaped in the wild rush of wind. I’d spent the first forty minutes of the drive just watching him and enjoying the feel of his silky hair tickling my bare arm. The backs of my fingers rested against Lestat’s shoulder blade. I felt childishly happy. Lestat fiddled with the radio, trying to find a song that he liked.

Louis turned to me. “What do you know of David?” he asked.

I glanced past him at Lestat, still twisting the knob and muttering to himself. “I know who he is.” I said, feeling uncomfortable. David was not the crux of the problems that they had worked through, I knew, but he had to have been a nice little chunk of it. Louis stared at me, obviously waiting for me to say more. “I know he’s Lestat’s fledgling. Last time I saw him was at that party at Marius’ place.”

“Ah, yes.” Louis said. “In princely rags.” He looked at me as if he wanted me to confirm this, so I nodded.

“Did he speak to you?”

“He said hello. Asked me how I was doing.” I said. That had been the extent of it. When David had come back with them for that one brief period, I was not yet living in the back, but in a tiny flat on Iberville Street. It had been then that Lestat had offered me the place behind their townhouse. They were going to South America, he’d told me, and he would feel better if I were keeping an eye on the place. Louis had returned alone, not long afterward and there had been another separation, with Lestat showing up only occasionally. I had not witnessed any altercation between Louis and David but Louis had once referred to something of the sort in an oblique way.

When Lestat was at St. Elizabeth’s, I’d seen David near the Cathedral. I didn’t know then that he’d noticed me at all but apparently he had, for he stopped me in the Square, asking me questions. Whether or not Louis was in residence at Royal Street. I’d told him that it was not my habit to discuss Louis’ business with anyone.

I didn’t see Louis much during those months. He would stop home sporadically and look distractedly at the mail that I thought was most important. He cared nothing about any of it, but something in him reacted the way it did in me; if Lestat was getting mail that need to be attended to, it should be done so that all would be in order when he returned. I mentioned the incident in Jackson Square to him. “David is in New Orleans.” Louis had said. "But he will not be back _here_ any time soon.”

Louis nudged me in the ribs with his elbow and I snapped back to the present.

“You’re making him uncomfortable with all these questions about David, my love.” Lestat said, having found a station that he could live with for the time being.

Louis twisted around and peered at me closely. “Are you uncomfortable?”

I shrugged, smiling a little. “No more than usual.” I said. “Is David in Miami?”

Lestat chuckled. “Right to the point. I believe you are rubbing off on him, Louis. But after all, since…”

“Please.” Louis said, pained. “Not another reference to Brian sleeping beside me.”

“Is he?” I persisted.

“I’m sure I don’t know.” Lestat said, easily. “ _I_ didn’t bring it up, after all.”

I leaned back, shaking my head. They baffled me. A trip to Miami, they said. So, okay, why not? They took trips all the time. If they wanted me along, I was more than happy to oblige.

“He isn’t there now.” Louis said cryptically.

Which of course told me nothing of why he’d brought it up to begin with.

 

**~~~~~~~**

Gerry Blancmange had a telephone call from his uncle in the morning regarding the transfer of some of the Lioncourt-Pointe du Lac holdings to offshore banks. Generally this was something one of their financial agents would have handled but it involved several legal issues which Lioncourt insisted be dealt with immediately. Gerry didn’t mind the minutiae involved; he had in fact been happily engrossed in it most of the afternoon, seated at one end of the long conference table. There seemed to be a number of files missing, and so he called out to Perry, asking if she knew where they might be. She came into the room.

“It’s still with the ones I brought back from the meeting the other night. I haven’t had a chance to put them away. I’ll get them for you,” she said, turning.

“What meeting?” He asked, trying to sound casual. She knew him though and there was an edge to his voice.

“Monday night. Mr. Callahan called late to say Monsieur Lioncourt had urgent business to discuss with Glaise. You were still in Baton Rouge, I think.”  
She dug out the file he had been looking for and handed it to him with a bright smile. “Funny how Monsieur Lioncourt always does business at night, isn’t  
it?”

“What did they discuss?” he asked, ignoring her suspiciously breezy tone.

“I don’t know, Gerry. They went into the inner office. Glaise asked me to stay because I was working late over there. “ Perry went back to her desk, amused at his proprietary concern. One weekend over two years ago and just listen to him. She understood the need to know, but not the attitude. She knew he liked to be the one to mete out bits of information regarding the two illustrious clients to her, not the other way around. She also knew that he was at a loss as to understand why she was interested since the pair were so obviously a couple. She had an idea that he’d closed the door on what else they were, for he had alluded to it only that one time, and that had been before he’d gone off on his little sojourn to Bayou Oaks. Not that it had been a surprise to her.

They worked late, pausing to order dinner in and they had everything squared away a little before nine. Perry was gathering up the remains of their meal when he stood up, reaching for the folders with the finalized contracts.

“I think I’ll just go on over to Royal St. and drop these off.” he said in a gloating sort of way. She smiled to herself. Still pissy because she’d been less then forthcoming regarding the meeting.

“Why?” Perry asked. “They aren’t home.”

He stared at her for a moment, non-plussed. “Well, I suppose I could leave them with Brian,” he said, slowly.

“He’s not there, either,” she said, her features bland. She left the room, and went back to her desk.

Gerry dropped the files abruptly on the table and followed her. “How do you know they aren’t there?” he asked, finally. Perry shrugged.

"Louis said." She glanced up at him, eyes wide.

“Must have been a last minute decision.” Gerry muttered.

“Yes, of course.” Perry said in a soothing manner. She could be so irritating at times, Gerry thought.

“Miami, I believe Louis said.” Perry suppressed a grin at the sour look on his face. Her hand began bleeding again.

 

 

 

~~~~~

**(Louis)**

Lestat was in rare form. Brian had the idea that bringing up David had made Lestat uncomfortable in some way which was understandable, I suppose, given the knowledge he had of the situation. If anyone was uncomfortable about it, it was Brian. Rather touching, really. Lestat, hardly uncomfortable, was rattling on about the beating he’d taken in the stock market and scoffing at Brian’s attempts to mollify him.

“If I recall, Brian, you did advise caution. I should have listened.” His laughter was intensely amused. I loved it when he was in this sort of convivial mood.

Brian shook his head. “You’re the only one I know that can laugh off a loss like that.”

“Drop in the bucket.” Lestat said, still chuckling. “Still, you did warn me. If I had listened…”

“As if you ever listen to Brian or anyone else, my dove.” I interjected. He squeezed my thigh roughly, a ferocious grin on his face.

“That’s not the point, Louis” Lestat maintained. He switched mental gears abruptly. “Brian! Are you hungry? Look! Food and lodging!” He swerved across three lanes of traffic to make the exit amidst blaring horns and not a few angry shouts. Brian’s hand, lying lightly on my shoulder only a moment before, squeezed spasmodically.

“It’s all right, Brian.” I told him. “No harm done.” I said, as Lestat screeched to a halt in the parking lot.

“And look. They have a Sunglass Hut.” Lestat was halfway across the parking lot when I finally nudged Brian.

“Are you going to just let him go off to the Sunglass Hut alone? I asked him.

He blinked, and then he grinned at me. “No worse than letting you loose in the airport.” Brian said, opening the door.

“Oh, you think not? Look.”

“Oh, Christ…” Brian took off toward the long glass building at a trot.

I followed, my pace measured. I liked the view I had--my darling bathed in the cool florescent light, his face animated as he had the clerk at the little kiosk within hand him pair after pair of sunglasses to try on. He had already attracted a small following, turning to ask the opinions of those who surrounded him. He seemed to be choosing the glasses by the amount of applause he received.

I stepped up onto the sidewalk, perhaps thirty yards from where Lestat was, watching him through the wide window. He’d chosen several pairs of glasses and then leaned toward the clerk, his attitude confidential as he said something into her ear. She giggled, her pretty face reddening at his proximity. Her eyes widened and she said something to him, her eyebrows raised in question. He nodded and handed her a credit card. She shrugged and began scanning pair after pair of sunglasses and handing them to him. He in turn tossed them to the knot of mortals surrounding him, growing by the moment.

Brian had gotten there by that time. He stood beyond the little crowd, also watching. For a moment his face was the picture of wistful longing, immediately replaced by a resigned grin as he surveyed the swirl of activity around Lestat. He folded his arms, and leaned against one of the supporting pillars. Lestat spotted him and tossed a pair of sunglasses over the heads of the people around him and Brian caught them neatly, one-handed. Lestat looked past him and then his face went still for a moment and he closed his eyes. He turned and when he opened his eyes again, they found mine through the glass.

I inhaled slowly, realizing only then that I had been holding my breath. It was the look in Lestat’s eyes that prodded the breath back into me; the slow, hot smile that spread across his face that compelled me to move again.

From one end of the long building, a pair of uniformed men approached the little crowd, undoubtedly thinking that some sort of minor riot was occurring; I could hear the noise from where I stood, in spite of the drone of traffic from the interstate behind me. Brian walked beside them, talking quickly and gesticulating as they moved forward toward Lestat. Running interference, Brian called it, though it was hardly necessary.

People were already drifting away from the little stand, and when the security men reached the kiosk, they found Lestat signing the charge slip with a flourish. The racks were nearly empty. He handed them each a pair of glasses as I opened the door. His head came up and he caught my gaze once again.

 

**(Brian)**

The minor tumult I’d seen from the parking lot turned out to be nothing more than Lestat having a bit of fun. I suspect Louis knew this when he’d pointed it out to me because when I turned to see where _he_ had gotten to, it took me several minutes to finally spot him standing outside the building, looking in at Lestat. You couldn’t help but look at Lestat, not with the spectacle he was creating. He does like attention, it’s true, but sometimes I wondered if he did not do these things expressly so that Louis can watch him, feast on his impulsiveness. If either of them have a weakness, it’s the other. Not that I have any room to speak of weakness. The blazing look they exchanged through the glass when Lestat caught sight of Louis made me seek the support of the pillar behind me once more.

Potential problem when I saw a pair of security guards moving purposefully toward Lestat. I fell into step beside them, speaking rapidly regarding the eccentric largesse of my employer. The small crowd was already dispersing when they reached the counter. Lestat gave them each a pair of the sunglasses and tipped me a wink. Louis had reached the door, and Lestat’s head went up, his eyes seeking. They came together in a deep embrace and Lestat leaned back away from Louis, supported by his lovers’ arms, laughing happily, his blond mane fanning out as his back bent at a nearly impossible angle. He snapped back up and cupped Louis’ face in both of his hands.

“I got you a pair of sunglasses, Louis.” He said.

“I saw, my love. Thank you.”

Their kiss, soaked with passion. What was going on around them? I don’t know, because I could see only them. A few moments later they stood on either side of me.

“So, Brian. What do you want to eat?” He was looking at the various signs. “What’s S’Barro? Do you want that?”

“Pizza.” I said. “No, I don’t want that. Coffee’s fine.”

“Pretzel Time.” Lestat said. “Those smell good. Get one of those.” He moved away and got into the line.

I opened my mouth to say something, but Louis laid a hand on my arm. “Let it go. You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to. We’ll sit and wait for him. You can watch him just as well from the bench.”

We sat down and Louis looked at me. “David is not an issue between us.” He said.

I blinked, but recovered quickly. In the last twenty minutes there had been several such changes in conversation, not to mention narrowly escaping death on the highway and a sort of mini Lestat-rally when we had arrived here. “No, I didn’t think he was.” I said carefully.

“Yet you smell anxious when his name comes up.”

“I’m aware of the problems that were caused by his making.” I said. I could feel a trickle of sweat down my back in spite of the refrigerated air.

“I just told you. He is no longer an issue between Lestat and myself. There is nothing to be anxious about.”

“Okay.” I agreed. “Is there a reason you are even talking about it? Is he going to Miami too?”

“He might.” Louis said. He turned his head and focused upon Lestat, his features relaxing somewhat.

As usual, I was getting nowhere with my questions. Still, better to press on than to have him kill me out of annoyed frustration if I should inadvertently get a few molecules of David’s scent on me somehow. “If he is, and he speaks to me, what should I do?”

Louis smiled a little. Lestat had made it to the head of the line. “I would think you would answer him. You are generally very polite. I am sure you will handle yourself well. You did the last time. ” He stood up. “I believe Lestat has bought one of each kind of pretzel available, Brian. And several liters of water for you, should you become thirsty.” He grasped my upper arm and hauled me to my feet and we followed Lestat outside.

 

**~~~~~~~**

Louis took the wheel when we started on our way again and I was content just sitting squashed comfortably beside Lestat. Their conversation rambled from one subject to another, most of it in French. The combination of their melodious voices, the mild air rushing by and a full stomach from parts of several different flavors of the pretzels foisted upon me by Lestat when we first got underway had lulled me into a semi doze.

I was thinking about the trip and thinking about the inexplicable and sporadic references to David Talbot. Louis was right; it made me anxious in a way that I could not quite put my finger on. I got the part about David not being an issue, sure. If Louis said it was so, than there was no reason for me to think otherwise. Still, once his name had been brought up, I couldn’t help but think about David and the awful time when Lestat had left Louis to himself.

Lestat shifted beside me and broke my rather dismal reverie. He looked closely at me. “Something on your mind?” He asked.

“Just thinking.” I said, wiggling up from my slouched position.

“About?”

“About David.” I admitted. “That time he saw me in the Square, when you were still at St. Elizabeth’s” I felt awkward.

“What about it?” Lestat said, already becoming disinterested. He leaned forward a bit to turn the radio on once again.

“I didn’t know other vampires were able to awaken in the daytime.” I said. Louis glanced sharply at me and then Lestat sat up, blocking him from view.

“What are you talking about?” Lestat said in a deceptively mild tone.

“He asked me how Louis was faring after waking in the daylight as he had, so I thought it happened to him too, or maybe one of the others.”

“Others?” Lestat asked. He’d settled back against the seat, facing forward once again.

“Yeah. How else would he know? I didn’t mention it. I never said anything about it to anyone.”

 

**(Louis)**

How else would he know. How. Else.

David mined that little nugget right out of his thoughts and Brian had been none the wiser. He still didn’t realize it. He was used to Lestat knowing what he was thinking about, for Lestat made no pretense of hiding it when he chose to take a look. I am aware that Brian welcomes such forays. He knows my touch as well, though I rarely make the effort these days. His run in with Armand must have convinced him that he would feel such an invasion, should it occur again.

Lestat had come to the same conclusion, no doubt, for I saw his jaw tighten the slightest amount.

“How else would he know, eh, Louis?” He said lightly. “ _Chaton_ , I think that it’s time we found a place to stay for the day.” He patted Brian’s knee absently. “I expect you could use a little rest yourself, Brian. And take my word for it, neither Louis or I will wake up, so you don’t need to worry about it.”

Lestat’s chuckle was not at all light. I felt the hair at the back of my neck try to lift at the surge in his blood, the shift in his mood. I remembered how it had been when that coldness had been directed toward me. Brian wisely kept silent and I pulled the car sedately off at the next exit.

I found a beachfront hotel in Fort Walton Beach, one of the higher end chains and Brian got out of the car to check in. By the time I’d parked the car, Lestat’s mood had shifted once again and he hummed to himself as we unsnapped the canvas to raise the canvas top of the car. “I wonder if David will pay a visit to Miami any time soon?” He said.

Brian was waiting for us, silhouetted in the glow from the glassed in lobby.

“I imagine we will find out soon enough, mon ange.” We went into the lobby and Brian said he’d gotten a suite for us overlooking the beach We followed him to the elevator. The suite was on the top floor, clean and attractive but hardly sumptuous. I spared a glance only and went toward the sliding door that issued onto a balcony and stepped out into the warm darkness. Behind me, Lestat was already on the phone ordering up candles for the room, food and beer for Brian, rattling off instructions for getting the bags from the car. Brian switched on only one small reading lamp, so the light behind me was not intrusive at all. I leaned on the rail and breathed in the fresh breeze blowing across the Gulf. Inside, the television came to life and then behind me, the rattle of those damnable slatted curtains.

“Louis?”

“Yes, my love?” I said. Lestat stepped up beside me, pressing his hip familiarly against mine and kissing my ear. The setting moon wavered, hammered silver on the water.

“Are you coming in?”

“In a while. After room service leaves. I wish some time alone.”

There was some minute hesitation and then he nodded, briefly touching his brow to my temple. “Not too long?”

I smiled. “Non, mon amour.”

He went back in and closed the slider so that it would be quieter. Inside I heard the volume of the television decrease. I could hear music from the discothequ---do they still call them that?-- on the ground floor and the sound of drunken laughter, shouts and general conviviality as mortals spilling out. onto the sidewalk below. The air smelled salty and fresh. I inhaled deeply and leaned forward on the rail.

David., I thought. David skating Brian’s thoughts back when Lestat was insensible on the floor of St. Elizabeth’s. I searched my memory. So much of that time was vague, a black and blue bruise on my brain, muted and difficult to access.

> _Brian had come one night to St. E’s, braving the blood drinkers that hovered within its walls and without as well. I remember picking his familiar scent up where he stood, white-faced and distressed near the wall. Marius or possibly David had told him he must not approach and so he didn’t until I stood and gestured for him to come nearer._
> 
> _“Why have you come here?” I had muttered._
> 
> _Brian only stared mutely at me, overcome with horror at the sight of Lestat lying so still, his arm outstretched. Thinking on it now some details came back to me. The interest that David had shown in the small interaction I’d had with Brian. The eager, flat hunger in the eyes of one of the young vampires standing in the doorway._
> 
> _“Stay here until dawn and then go home, and do not return to this place. There are those here that would kill you. Do you understand?”_
> 
> _He nodded slowly, and went back to slump against the wall. I paid him no more mind and went back to take my place by Lestat’s side._
> 
> _So. David had been watching and didn’t I get from him some sort of pity? Did he think himself better off? I didn’t know. Didn’t care._
> 
> _Poor, weak Louis. This thought was echoed in various ways by the other immortals in the room. Weak. Lestat made him weak to keep him subservient. Weak._
> 
> _None of them knew I could hear them all. None of them knew that I didn’t care in the least what they thought of me. None of them knew that Lestat had no idea of what he was doing when he had taken me, brought me to him. None of them knew that I would have been struck blind, made limbless, deaf and dumb if only to have time with him. It had never been immortality, but to be forever with him, it had not been the Dark Gift, but the gift of his burning, consuming love. None of them knew._
> 
> _Something else that none of them had known was how much they didn’t know. About me. About Lestat. Some of them read my thoughts, the ones on the surface. The ones I allowed them to see. Pain at seeing Lestat in such a state. The underlying pain of his suicide attempt, the pain of yet another fledgling made._
> 
> _Poor, suffering Louis. It was, after all, what they expected to see. What they wanted to see. What David wanted to see._
> 
> _The night after Brian showed up at St. E’s I killed the vampire that had watched him so hungrily. I killed others as well and after while the young ones became wary and stayed well away from Lestat, at least when I was there._
> 
> _I did not feed for weeks at a time and that fostered the image of my suffering. Enhanced it, one could say. David would approach me solicitously, urging me to hunt, to stay strong and I would politely nod and stay where I was. I trusted Gabrielle to stay with him when I was finally driven to hunt and on those nights I would walk the streets of our home, great, circuitous loops ending back at St. E’s or occasionally at Rue Royale._
> 
> _And I woke during the day, sick with longing, desperate to have Lestat back with me, punching through the unconsciousness to a bleary, horrid awareness that he was still away and I could not help him. Brian tells me he saw me thus, but I have only a vague memory of it._

From below there came the raucous sounds of a drunken argument and I roused myself from thoughts of the past. Lestat was inside waiting for me. This is what matters to me.


	5. Conclusions and More Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lestat and Brian have an illuminating discussion, among other events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that this story takes place circa 2002. At this time, Yahoo Groups was still a main discussion forum. This was two years before My Space and Facebook became a thing.

 

**In The Company of Wolves - Chapter Five**

**(Narrative)**

Perry sat at her desk, eating her lunch. The office was quiet with Gerry off to lunch with a client and Tracy Harvey closeted in with a stack of files that looked as though they’d keep her busy for a while. She had breezed into the office that morning and asked Gerry solicitously if she might have his secretary pull a few files for her.

A few files, Perry thought. She might has well have wheeled the cabinet into the conference room on a dolly--it would have saved time. Instead, Ms. Harvey had taken some kind of sour delight in buzzing Perry every fifteen minutes or so for further assistance. Perry made no complaint and managed to keep her attitude pleasant. It had paid off too because Ms. Harvey soon tired of the game when nothing more was elicited from Perry than the files requested.

She hit the internet connection on her computer and peeled an orange while she waited to be connected. Email from her sister, junk mail--and the digest from the Sightseers group. She logged into the group and started reading.

> ~~~~~~~
> 
>  Sightseers at Yahoogroups.com
> 
> FROM: DeliriumT  
>  August 12, 2002 10:52 p.m.
> 
> SUBJECT: Shadowwatcher, are you there?
> 
> CB in for tea (?) this evening accompanied by his Artist friend. It seems that he will be leaving Wales for London in a fewdays and from there to America. He seemed aware that the Sun and the Shadow were also making a journey. Is there a convention in the works? Those of you in Miami, any buzz?
> 
> Sightseers at Yahoogroups.com  
>  FROM: NiteAisle  
>  August 12, 2002 11:29 p.m.
> 
> SUBJECT: Shadowwatcher, are you there?
> 
> No sign of any incoming visitors from New Orleans, though there was an unverified sighting of La Mere de Soleil. I’m still checking on that, but I seriously doubt it. There have been no sightings of La Mere for months. I have seen the Journalist in South Beach several times.
> 
> ~~~~~~~

 

There was a flurry of other questions and answers that followed the two postings. Whenever there was movement by any of them, this happened, with devotees from all over wondering what might or might not happen. She logged off and finished eating her orange.

Lestat’s mother? Probably not. Daniel, he was often spotted in Miami. David, though--that was interesting. She lifted the last slice of orange to her mouth and saw that it was reddened with the blood oozing once again from her hand.

 

**(Brian)**

Fort Walton Beach is on what is referred to in the tourist guidebooks as the Emerald Coast. The water is a beautiful green when the sun is shining, but the afternoon following our exodus from New Orleans was a warm and rainy one. The water on the Emerald Coast was more of a slate blue frothed with white. I didn’t mind, though. I like the beach in all its moods, and the muted grays and whites suited my frame of mind. I liked that there were not too many people out and about and I liked walking barefoot in the warm water of the Gulf.

Of course I was thinking about the night before, and what it all meant--and if it really meant anything. More and more I am able to see that time is not nearly as linear a thing as I had previously supposed. Perhaps I should amend that by saying it’s not the same, at least not to beings who have lived several lifetimes and can recall with startling accuracy most of the events that they have witnessed.

This business about David, now. I don’t know why it was brought up or what was actually going on, but I know that in the course of the ride something had shifted. It had happened when I brought up the waking up in the daytime thing. I had hesitated a little, saying anything at all. I’ve seen Louis like that twice now and it was no walk in the park la-dee-dah oh look, the sun’s out kind of thing. It was harsh; a dark and terrible thing to see him anguished like that. I said it only because once they had brought David up, the few memories I had of him surfaced. At the time of the incident, Louis had been so distracted that I didn’t dare bother him at all if it was avoidable.

I realized that I had somehow blundered when Lestat asked Louis _‘How else would he know, eh, Louis?_ ’ with a razors’ edge to the tone that I recognized immediately. I didn’t need to read Lestat’s mind to know when something has pissed him off and all I wanted to do at that point was crawl into the back seat and go to sleep. Lestat had not seemed angry with me, however, so I just shut my mouth and made myself sit as still as I could until he shook the mood.

Lestat shook it off quickly. By the time we had gotten to the suite, he seemed to have forgotten all about it, ordering room service to bring up food and beer and candles and extra pillows. Louis had gone out to the balcony for an hour or so, avoiding the hubbub of room service, and the television and such.

I would not have thought anything of it, for Louis often likes a little time alone. At any given time he is apt to rise and kiss Lestat lovingly, telling him that he will return shortly. It used to be that Lestat would wait for a while and then go and follow Louis. He doesn’t do it so much anymore and Louis is invariably back within two hours time. When he retired to the balcony last night, however, I felt sure it was because of what I’d said.

The rain had begun to fall harder and the wind had picked up. My skin was ridged with gooseflesh, so I turned and started back to the hotel at a jog with the wind in my face and a needling spray coming off the waves.

So what had I said? I went over it again. _‘How else would he know?’_ I’d asked How else. Lestat had repeated that and that was when I’d caught the freezing edge in his voice. I stopped running for a moment., staring out at the breaking surf. Jesus. David had read it from me and I never had a clue. You don’t need to drop a piano on ole Brian Callahan to get his attention.

I began jogging again, angry with myself. Disturbed, too, that it hadn’t occurred to me. I picked up my pace, running harder, listening to the slap of my feet on the wet sand and cursing under my breath. By the time I reached the hotel the rain had turned into a driving downpour. I walked past a few startled people in the lobby and took the elevator back to the suite.

 

**(Lestat)**

Brian had booked us into a suite in the elegant Cardozo Hotel on Thirteenth. I was buttoning up my shirt and looking at Louis’s image in the mirror as he came to stand behind me.

“Are you certain you want to stay here?” I asked Louis. He smiled at me.

“Quite certain, _mon ange_. I know you like restaurants. I do not.” He reached around and ran a shining nail down my throat. “I might be coaxed into dessert later, however,” he said huskily. I turned and slipped my arms around his waist.

“Maybe I should stay here.”

“Tempting, _non_? But I think not. You know how I love to spike your hunger. “

He flicked at my fang with his tongue just as Brian tapped at the bedroom door.

“Come in, Brian.” Louis said. He nipped at my mouth and stepped away, licking his lips.

“Interrupting yet again, I see.” Brian said pointedly, stepping into the room.

“Not at all.” Louis said. “You have him all to yourself for a few hours,. Don’t let him talk you into eating anything you don’t want to eat.” He smiled guilelessly at Brian and kissed me once again.

“Right.” Brian said, shifting from one foot to the other and vainly trying to ignore Louis’ double entendre. Louis pushed me gently toward the door and walked with me across the living room.

“You look good, Brian.” Louis said, looking him over. He did, too, in Diesels, a brown-gold sheened shirt and a worn leather belt. He pulls off sexy-casual really well.

“Thanks.” Brian said, pleased. I kissed Louis once again and he pushed me gently toward the door. Outside the hotel, I took a breath of air and fell into step with Brian.

“Louis didn’t want to come?” He ventured.

“He doesn’t like the scents…you know, cooking odors.” I said. We turned onto Collins Avenue and picked up the pace as we were swept along in the early evening foot traffic. He was working up to a question--or several of them, possibly.

“We’ve been here a few days,” he said, finally. “What about this Night Island place? Or have you changed your mind.”

“I haven’t changed my mind. Are you in a specific hurry to go there?”

He shrugged.“More like I want to get it over with,“ he said, looking at the buildings we were passing for a number. “Nemo’s is further down. The 100 block.”

“Get it over with?” I said, feigning hurt. “And here I thought I was bringing you to a place you’d enjoy.” I nudged him with my shoulder.

He smiled and we crossed the street.“I just wonder if that was the only reason you wanted to go to Night Island,” he said a little nervously.

“Ah. The talk of David has unnerved you? Forget it, Brian. Not your fault. That sort of thing was his specialty before I turned him. He’s insufferably good at it now.” I said. “The restaurant is just there. I made reservations for a courtyard table.”We went inside; it was a very trendy place. The light-studded undulating folds of bronze-colored Lucite over the bar had a disturbing aspect that I didn’t care for.

“What the hell is an interactive food bar?” Brian whispered, struggling suddenly with a fit of laughter.

I shrugged. “I thought food was interactive.” I muttered back. Brian snorted sudden laughter just as we were greeted by an unctuous maitre d’ who seemed put out by Brian’s unsuccessfully stifled laughter..

“Will your third party be along, sir?” he asked, It was clear he was offended, even though Brian had managed to calm himself

“No. A last minute cancellation.” I said. “You can leave the setting. It’s no trouble. May I see a wine list?”

Brian was already looking over the menu, his mood having changed rather abruptly. He brushed distractedly at his hair as he does when he’s on edge.

“A bottle of the Mouton-Cadet ’79 and a short glass of your best Irish whiskey.” I told the waiter after glancing briefly at the wine list. Brian glanced up, amused. I picked up the other menu, and read through the selections.

“What strikes you, Brian?”

“Nothing there that I wouldn’t try. Choose what you like. I’ll scrape the rust off my descriptive skills.”

The waiter arrived with the wine and Brian’s whiskey and I motioned to Brian. He waved away the cork and tasted the offering. “Fine.” He pronounced and after the waiter poured a glass for each of us I ordered steamed Mediterranean mussels to start and a pan-seared filet of snapper with several sides. When the waiter left, Brian picked up his glass of whiskey and took a swallow.

“All this hesitation.” I chided. “You want to ask me questions and you know that I am aware of that. You are not usually so reticent.”

“Why did you do it?” he said, leaning forward. “Why did you turn David?”

“One good turn deserves another.” I said, coolly.

“That’s not an answer,” he said and I felt anger coming from him. “If you don’t want to tell me, fine. Just say it’s none of my business. And don’t tell me you did it because he helped you out of a jam with that Raglan James guy.”

I could have told him just that--that it was none of his business, and he would have accepted it. He is aware that inviting his questions does not guarantee him that they will be answered. I was a little annoyed that he was pressing it, to be honest. The things that have stood between Louis and myself in the past are not things that I am very proud of. I leaned forward also, so that I was only inches away from him.

“I did it because I was angry with Louis for turning me away when I came to him in that mortal’s body. I did it to hurt him.” I lifted my lips in a low snarl. “I did it because I could.”

He didn’t flinch back, he only looked harder at me.“David didn’t want it,” he said.

“Is that what you think?”

“He’s said it over and over.”

“So have you.” I pointed out. His neck stained red. “But you would not refuse it, would you, Brian?”

He exhaled forcefully, and swallowed once. “This isn’t about me,” he said steadily. “If he really wished you to turn him, why is he so resentful?”

“He had a different view of how it would be. “

“He loved you.”

“He loved what he thought I was. For that matter, I loved what I thought he was.” I countered.

“And what was that? The wise father thing? You know Lestat, a lot of humans manage to get over that in one lifetime.“

I was torn between anger and a disagreeable sort of pleasure that he was able to be so bold about it all. I could smell a little fear in him, but not much. “Louis has told you. David is no longer an issue between us.” I stated flatly.

“Between you, no. But he is still an issue. He’s there.”

 

(Louis)

When they left I went back into the bedroom and lay down upon the bed with my head in Lestat’s pillow. I’d had unsettling dreams, dredged up by all the talk of David and my reluctant delving into memories that I had chosen to forget.

I never really forget. It’s just not always time to remember. Something was happening, and so it became time to remember.

I don’t think Lestat remembers; not coherently anyway. He has alluded to how it felt but I don’t think the full memory is there for him to examine. He remembers that he felt as though he was screaming without sound. He remembers long and convoluted dreams of heaven and hell and Jesus Christ Himself. He remembers that he was trapped. He told me when I’d taken him home after his awakening that he’d been afraid I might leave him there and in his desperation he had cried out with all the power he could muster, but still could make no sound.

I heard him, though and there was sound. Agonized, tormented sound. Pain that dropped me to my knees, for the power behind it was that same power that characterized the pinnacles reached when we make love. His cry set up a reverberation in my skull that left me weak and sick.

I rolled to my side, pulling my knees to my chest, concentrating--narrowing my focus to that night.

_“Louis, you are wasting away.” Gabrielle’s voice, with an echo of Lestat’s accent. “Go feed. He will be here when you return.” Her voice was not gentle, but I preferred her coolness because in it I sensed honesty._

_I raised my eyes to hers. More echoes. I searched her face, mobile where his was still. He has her fine bone structure. The few times I had gone out, she’d stayed near him, keeping the young ones away from him, and so I had gone, seizing the first mortal I had come upon. The small warmth had animated me somewhat, and so I had walked. Miles of it, the circuitous route that I had wandered on other nights, lost in thought._

_Lestat’s torment engulfed me, allowing no room for coherent reasoning. In all our time together I had never heard such a sound from him, an agonized internal shriek that forced the breath from me. I fell to my knees with my hands clapped to my ears, far beyond any emotion that I can articulate. When the roar of his pain and yes, his anger had faded somewhat I vomited helplessly, staining the pavement scarlet with the blood of my latest victim._

_I staggered to my feet, massively off-kilter. It took me long minutes to get my bearings but when I did, vampire quickness brought me to St. Elizabeth’s in a matter of minutes I concentrated on shielding my mind and my presence, standing outside for a moment, listening…reaching for Lestat. I had his scent, I heard his heartbeat, strong and rapid, but the sound, that wordless howl, was gone._

_When I entered the long room where he lay, he was as still as when I’d left him. My sudden appearance startled all of them, most of all David, standing to one side of Lestat’s head, just out of his reach. I caught a fleeting glimpse of his unguarded expression of surprise, quickly hooded. His mind was closed._

> _“Where is Gabrielle?” I asked tersely, struggling to keep my voice even._
> 
> _“She is about. Are you quite all right?” David asked in his infuriatingly polite accent._
> 
> _“Where is she? She said that she would stay with Lestat.”_
> 
> _“She is speaking with Marius and Armand. I told her I would keep the young ones back.”_
> 
> _I went past him and took my place at Lestat’s side, leaning to listen to his breathing and to brush his golden hair from his brow._
> 
> _“I’m here, Lestat.” I whispered._
> 
> _He didn’t move. His face was as still as it had been since I came here to find him this way months earlier, eyes slitted open so that the whites showed with a bare crescent of blue. There was about him an energy, something crackling almost. I recognized the feel of it, for in the old days I had become well acquainted with his sudden and furious rages. I had the sensation that he would spring up at any moment and fling me across the room to crash against the plaster wall. It was a sensation I had not had in years, perhaps not ever, for the fury I felt was not directed at me._
> 
> _I spoke softly to him in French, trying to appear as I had done every other night that I had been here. Inside I was still haunted by that outcry. He had needed me and I had not been here. There was a crazed hope in me as well; if he had been able to cry out to me in his fear and his rage, then he was not gone entirely from me, only unable to find his way back._
> 
> _I sat up in the bed, gazing about at the unfamiliar room. The hotel, yes. It was freezing, the air conditioner set high, the way Brian liked it. The outcry, I thought. There had been fear…and there had been anger. Palpable, as it had been when Lestat had been as quick with his blows as he was with his kisses._
> 
> _He remembered the fear when he awakened. I had never thought to question him about the rage that I’d felt, for upon taking him home I was interested solely in re-affirming our bond, assuring him that it had not been sundered. He remembered the fear. He even remembered that he had called--screamed, really, but that he despaired of my hearing him. How was it then, that he had no memory of the anger?_
> 
>  

 

(Brian)

I knocked back the rest of my whiskey and pushed the glass to one side. Lestat kept his gaze locked to mine and I had to fight not to lower my eyes. Sometimes it becomes a test with him and I could tell that he was nettled.

“Yes. David’s still here. Do you have more questions, Brian?” He moved infinitesimally closer, eyes narrowed.

“You don’t have to answer.” I said.

“I’m aware of that,” he said in a deceptively mild voice.

That little glint in his eyes should have made me shut up but I felt like they had made me part of whatever the fuck was happening by bringing me along. They’re instinctual creatures, operating on a different level than humans do. It was entirely possible that there was no plan at all and Lestat’s idea to come to Miami was related to that deeper level they work from.

“Louis persuaded to him leave.” I said, softly. “When you were still lying there on the floor of that place. He came home one night and said that David wasn’t in New Orleans any more. He brought you home a few days later.” He stared at me as though gauging something in me and reached for the wine bottle.

“When I came to Louis in that mortal body, he turned me away. “ Lestat said distantly. “Do you know why?”

I watched the muscle in his jaw twitch. “No." I whispered. He topped off the wine in my glass and set the bottle back down with infinite care.

“I didn’t know why, either. Not then. I thought that he’d made up his mind to finally be shut of me once and for all and I was so furious and so hurt that I that I couldn’t think clearly. I burned that awful little house he’d holed up in to the ground. It was the sum of all my fears, you see, that he didn’t want me, that I had been right all along.”

I stared at him wide-eyed, shaking my head slowly.

“He turned me away because he knew if I were mortal that I would die. Die, and be released.  
He wanted to send me to heaven, you see. He thinks that’s where I should be. In heaven.”

I was speechless, gaping at him. His eyes were far away and his fingers turned the band on his left hand.

“He thought that if I could live out a mortal life, there would be forgiveness and I would be released. Louis believes in my redemption, you see, though it defies everything he’s come to believe. How glad I am that he didn’t kill me for I know there is no heaven for me but to have him with me.”

“Kill you?” I managed to whisper. “Kill _you_? No. He would not. No.”

He smiled. “He has tried it a time or two. And he very nearly it did it that night. He couldn’t, though. He…” Lestat blinked and focused on me again. “He wouldn’t turn me yet he could not bring himself to kill me. On that perceived note of rejection, I turned back to David. You know what happened after that. Maybe you know more than I do. After all, you were the one to stay with Louis.” He raked his hair from his face.

“I stayed on Royal Street.” I muttered. “But Louis was rarely there after you left.”

A shadow clouded his face, followed by a smooth blankness. “Until he brought me home.”

I nodded, sitting up in my chair. “Louis called me that night, before you got back. He said you were awake and he was bringing you home. I turned them away at the door, you know. Marius and Armand. Daniel. Others. They called and called, so that I stopped answering the phone after a while. He told me that you wanted it that way.”

“About time, too, yes?” He said, rousing himself. “Decisions I should have come to long ago.” He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t have to. I know much of the story from there. “Anything else?”

“Why are we here now?” I blurted, before I could stop myself.

He leaned back, suddenly affable once more, his beautiful face relaxing into a charming smile.  
“I told you. We want to show you a good time.” He gestured toward my full wineglass. “You did say you were game. Are you or aren’t you?”

I took the glass, and he lifted the other one. “Yeah. I’m game.”

He clicked his glass to mine and took a tiny sip. “Don’t look so worried, Brian. You’ve made it this far." He raised his eyebrows. "Ah. Your appetizer is here.”

The intense feeling had passed, but not the feeling that something was happening…or about to happen.

TBC


	6. Realization, Repletion and Renewal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Separately, Lestat and Louis come to certain realizations followed by a night completed with repletion and renewal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that this story takes place circa 2002. At this time, Yahoo Groups was still a main discussion forum; this was two years before My Space and Facebook became a thing.

****

  
****

****

~Chapter Six~

From The Sightseers Group Digest

Sightseers at Yahoogroups.com  
FROM: NiteAisle  
August 16, 2002 12:16 a.m.

SUBJECT: SIGHTING! 

The Sun was observed in South Beach at one of the restaurants on Collins Ave. He was with a dark haired man…not the Shadow. It appears he is staying at the Cardozo on 13th. Anyone know who his companion is? Shadowwatcher?

Sightseers at Yahoogroups.com  
FROM: Shadowwatcher  
August 16, 2002 1:11 a.m.

SUBJECT: SIGHTING!

That would be their assistant, for lack of a better word. Have they visited the Island yet?  
DeliriumT says CB may be on the way. Florida was mentioned, though possibly he is interested in visiting the Magic Kingdom? 

Sightseers at Yahoogroups.com  
FROM: Hematoma  
August 16, 2002 1:56 a.m.

SUBJECT: SIGHTING!

La Mere is still in Tuscany, as of yesterday, anyway. Just thought you’d like to know.

**LOUIS**

The balcony of our suite looked over a small, elegant courtyard. There were mortals below, enjoying the evening with cocktails and conversation and music drifting up like lazy cigarette smoke from the lounge that opened into the flagged patio. There were tiny lights strung like fireflies through the ficus trees.

I’d risen from the bed, discarding the robe I was wearing and dressing in soft, snug trousers and a loose shirt; clothing for Lestat to remove from me later. Slowly? Perhaps. A beguiling seduction, leaving trails of fire wherever his flesh should touch mine, his fingers slipping the buttons from the holes in the shirt as he leans to kiss my throat. Contemplating his touch brought a familiar heat to the base of my spine and I shifted in the chair. He is an irresistible force, my Lestat and there are times when I need solitude in order to think clearly. I smiled to myself. Even when he is absent I find it difficult to focus upon anything else.The elusive quality of my memory as it pertains the time Lestat lay immobile on the floor of that place had only just now occurred to me. I wondered again at Lestat’s choice of a holiday destination.

_‘Is David in Miami?’_ Brian had asked. An interesting question.

David is adept at hiding himself. If he does not wish his presence felt by others of our kind, he is entirely capable of remaining unnoticed. The Dark Gift enhances those qualities possessed by the one who receives it and David had been a remarkable psychic even as a mortal. He had attained the age in which to temper his not inconsiderable gifts. Such a thing coupled with Lestat’s powerful blood made him a force to be reckoned with.

All of that aside, however, David has his weaknesses. His pride is one of them. Unlike Lestat, whose pride is very often his way of masking himself, David’s pride is seated in his intellect. He is learned, of that there is no doubt and he'd had life experience that neither Lestat nor I had the time to incur as mortals. He forgets, though, that we have lived lifetimes, seen things and felt things and done things that he has only read about. A little run-in with a tiger a mere sixty-odd years ago barely registers as a blip on my radar. He has not the slightest understanding of what motivates me. That is also a weakness.

By now he would have read of our trip on the little, closed community of self-described ‘Sightseers’. Persephone had very likely posted the information I’d given her that same evening. It might even be that she realized it was exactly what I wished of her. She is a clever woman and I have a good deal of respect for her. It was she, after all, who had alerted me to the group in the first place. She is under no illusions as to my true nature and refreshingly, unlike her ‘boss’, she makes no attempt to talk herself out of her knowledge, or to ignore it.

I can’t imagine that David is at all anxious to see me again. Other than the extremely brief contact we had some years back at Marius’ home in Metairie, I had not seen him since I made it clear to him outside St. Elizabeth’s that it would be in everyone’s best interest if he left. Lestat abandoned his stasis…woke up…whatever it might be called, several nights after David had gone. Maharet and the others were reluctant to let lestat leave, worried for his safety and perhaps mine. Lestat said very little, indicating only that he wished to leave, to go home and would someone please stop whoever was the racketing away on the piano. I took him home the very next night, instructing Brian ahead of our arrival that there was to be no disturbance if he was able to prevent it.

We'd walked home that evening, hands clasped. He had remained silent for much of the walk and uncharacteristic as that was, the simple joy I felt at having him near me, aware and whole, had not been marred by his silence. In some ways, it has, perhaps, even enhanced how I felt. He had come back. His silence was not uncomfortable, it was expectant. Later, close to dawn Lestat became anxious, struggling against the death sleep. _‘You won’t be trapped again, my precious one. There is no one here that will harm you or bind you to a place that you do not belong.’_ I'd told him, murmuring softly and caressing him. He had clung to me, and to have his scent so strong in my head, his limbs twined with mine had been a benediction, a pure blessing. 

_“I called and called, Louis, but you couldn’t hear me,”_ he had whispered.

_“I heard you, angel. I just couldn’t answer you,”_ I had whispered back.

I heard the elevator doors open in the hall and then, their voices--Lestat’s voice, amused but with an edge to it and Brian's calm in that way he has when he is working to keep his anxiety level under control. The door to the suite opened, and they exchanged a few more words. 

“ _Ou est mon chaton_?” Lestat called. I heard his light step coming unerringly to where I was. His shadow bloomed on the floor and I turned my head to look up at him. 

“I’m here Lestat.” 

_****_

  
****

****

LESTAT

“Thanks for dinner.” Brian said as we entered the suite. “I had never imagined lobster hash browns.”

“Interactive food.” I said with a snort. I lifted my head, scenting. Outside. Louis was on the balcony. Brian gave me a knowing little smile and flung himself on the couch.

“Interactive vampires,” he said, yawning hugely. “Don’t mind me. I’m going to be interactive with the couch.” He stretched, sighing as his spine crackled, long body shivering as he tensed his muscles before relaxing back into the cushions. He grinned up at me as he reached for the remote. “Oh, and thanks for not killing me, and all.” He waved me onward to the sliding doors, noting my mounting impatience. 

"You are most welcome. It’s been…interesting.”

  
**~~~~~~~**

_“Ou est mon chaton?”_ I called softly.

“I’m here, Lestat.” 

Louis was in the corner of the balcony, seated on a scrolled iron chair with his long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. I extended my hand to him and he took it, rising fluidly to his feet. He reached to cup my face in his hand.

“Did you enjoy yourself, ‘Stat?” he asked, brushing my lips with his. He moved past me and leaned on the rail of the balcony.

I smiled. “It was a most interesting evening.” I stated dryly.

“And Brian?” 

“He was in a curious mood.” I moved to stand behind him, slipping my arms around his waist and leaning my head against the back of his neck. “Full of questions.” 

He laughed softly. He’d dressed in snug trousers and a full, loose shirt. I blinked, a brief vision of him centuries ago dancing at the periphery of my vision. “And this is something new?”

“Not really, but he was rather more pointed this evening.”

Louis leaned forward, elbows on the rail. His black hair whispered on the silk of his shirt. “He has been edgier since we left New Orleans. Sensitive to the undercurrents, I imagine.”

I pushed my face into his hair, suddenly impatient with all the talk of David, and the strange unease that had overtaken me. Why in the world had I thought coming to Miami was such a good idea? “And you, Louis? How have you been occupying yourself in my absence?”

“Sitting and thinking,” he said, turning around to face me. He slid his hands up my chest, letting them come to rest upon my shoulders. 

My talk with Brian had me a little more perturbed than I liked to admit and I was at a loss to understand it. It was as though his words had awakened some buried memory. I touched my forehead to his, cradling his head with one hand. 

“Does something trouble you?” Crystalline green eyes. He is exquisite. One white hand raised from my shoulder to brush the hair from my eyes.

“Nothing that cannot wait to be spoken of.” I told him. He stared hard at me, and then nodded.

“Come to bed, Lestat.”

****

~~~~~

****

LOUIS

Fastened to his golden throat. At such times my ecstasy is a burning thing and I feel that I might suddenly burst into flames with holding Lestat’s brilliant, fiery life inside of me. His hands clenched and released and in my head I felt his pain and his delirious pleasure. Something else there, too, not purposely withheld only closed until he would choose to take it out and think on it. For now it sat uneasy in its closed spot.

We clung to each other, still clothed, lying across the bed where we had fallen together. His flesh paled under my mouth, blue veins conspicuous. His hands were weaker, clutching feebly at my back. I knew what I would see when I raised my head. His breathing became labored and I released his throat. When I raised myself up from him, his hands fell to his sides. Brimming with his blood, teeming with his incandescence, I gazed into his blue eyes as he lay supine beneath me, face drawn and gaunt. His eyes were blue flame; no weakness there. His fangs gleamed whitely. I was quite painfully excited.

I rose from the bed, reeling and intoxicated with his essence, keeping my eyes locked to his. I undressed slowly, piquing his lust as well as his thirst. When we had come into the room he’d begged me to drain him. Take him. His mind voice stroked me. I stripped the clothing from his body with loving roughness, running my hands over his bones in their tight casing of flesh. His hips jutted prominently. Treasured flesh, and oh, his blood sang within me. I tore my wrist and held it over his mouth. His tongue stretched forth to catch the drops, the flow quickly stemmed. Straddling his thighs and pulling him up to my chest, I took his mouth in a savage kiss.

“So hungry, my love. “ I crooned softly when I released his mouth. He growled deeply, snapping at my lips, his blood thirst momentarily claiming his restraint and negating his weakness. I pulled back. “Not yet, darling-- as you asked.” I pressed another kiss to his mouth before laying him back on the bed and rolling him on his side so that I could spoon my body against his. His skin was cool to the touch and so I gathered him close to share the heat his blood imparted to me.

“ _Louis, si chaud,”_ he rasped. Tiny kisses pressed to the side of his wounded neck, slow to heal from his blood loss. He drew his leg up slowly.

****

LESTAT

His kisses were so fiercely tender and the heat radiating from his flesh was searing on my chilled skin where we touched. His roughness soothed me; the strength he held me with satisfied my craving to be his, to deliver my will into his hands. To trust him.

This weakness I felt was temporary only and I knew that within me the blood left to me by Louis’ voracious thirst had begun renewing itself slowly. Still, I felt light and empty, waiting breathlessly for Louis to take me, to fill me and to renew me. Make me whole. The talk of David, why he was made, the pain I had caused us yet again…sometimes forgiveness does not close the book completely. The things that you resolve to put behind you for good and all are still there, uneasy reminders that the strongest of bonds will unravel if they are not attended to with assiduous and careful diligence.

We were taking the time now and Louis realized immediately where my need lay. No surprises there, for does he not always anticipate me? The air blazed with the sudden release of blood and I felt his hand between us, wet and seeking, finding entrance and stroking me within. A moment later his fingers slid from me and my yearning flesh received his cock, hard and demanding. 

Can I see him and not want him? My hearts’ blood is his; the creature that wandered doomed found the redemption he so urgently wished to give me when I stumbled, mortal once again, to his lair. I found that redemption when he told me he loved me; I find it over and over again when I awaken to see him lying next to me. Transcendence in pain and lust, scoured by thirst and need and the love I feel for him. 

He tore the flesh of his inner wrist and pressed it to my mouth and the red tide of ecstasy swept over me, irrigating my tightened veins, reviving me. I opened my mind to welcome him there, and found that his thoughts ran along a similar path. The writhing of our physical bodies stilled, but the rapturous twining of our minds continued unabated, blissful, sweet completion that passed through us even to physical completion over and over again. 

He loves me so.


End file.
